Of The Blood
by Vampire Crayons
Summary: Inspired by Breaking Dawn, a new world begins with the Volturi lashing out after their defeat. To Emilie it is a revolution of the blood and vengance for her sister. And for her she will form the alliance of the Animal Covens and bring out the Cullens...
1. Chapter 1

I can vaguely remember the old chiffon dresses we used to wear at balls and her human and pretty face as she smiled kindly at the men that offered us hands for dancing. She would giggle and decline watching the dark haired man from Paris flirting with a crowd of women, a dandy, and she wished he would invite her to the circle. It was an unrequited love in the cloudy months of February. Only the bright face we thought so very handsome was deadlier than the swords in the hands of the revolutionary army.

Come March we and almost all of the girls that had once clung to his arms and whispered about him behind decorated fans fell from an inescapable fever. The illness took the lives of not only the daughters but of their families. But for those who knew, and who were none other than the young ladies themselves, it was another fate that had befallen them. We were the dolls of our collector and the predators of the night; newborn vampires with no other objective than to rip out the jugulars of their mothers and fathers and drink our fill of our brothers and sisters.

Then there were twenty-four of us in total, the outstanding of the bunch Clair, Annette, Angelique, Aime, and I, Emilie. My sister took another name that she fancied. We called her 'Maria'. In comparison I was far lovelier in appearance but she would excite crowds with her voice. She spoke of new ideals that the English vampire had introduced the immortal community. She had her heart set on a new hero, Carlisle, and with no further use for the man who kept us together she inspired the other girls to rebel against him. And so the man we had all once been infatuated with was ripped apart the hands of mutiny.

Eventually her love for the vegetarian ways would be her downfall. After the Volturi's defeat with the mighty Cullen coven and their half-breed daughter anyone that was accused of being a 'Cullen sympathizer' was beheaded. As passionate as our sisters were about Maria they cast her out and I followed her dutifully into hiding.

Maria was zealous about following Carlisle's ideals. I'd tried to convince to drink from humans to change our eye color but she would not vary from her diet. 'It's the right way, Emma. Don't ever let them change you. Like this we are free,' and she says this to me like the siblings we once were.

They got her.

I ran.

I had already lived through one revolution but it seemed another of a different sort was coming full throttle at me and the rest of my kind. I would join those who would try to avoid it, possibly pretend it wasn't happening though we knew better. And when the time came I would be consumed by this force as well.


	2. I

**I**

Clair never left the old house, she was attached to it's history and the memories we'd never forget. The old and familliar scent from her hair and skin, like honey and lemons in herbal tea, vanquished all other smells from permeating its air. Now the past became the present in my eyes, many girls lounging about our house, licking their fingers after a hunt and boasting about the size of their largest quarry. Then there was Clair in the corner by her table of old relics she stole from here and there. She would touch each and every one of them gingerly, lovingly.

She could see behind her closed eyelids these objects' previous owners and the lives they had. Any human or creature that had ever held one of her pocessions would never be able to hide from her sight.

There once was a key she took from a rich man one night strolling about the town a little later than most folk. I remember his velvet breeches and the foul smell of whiskey on him. Killing him was almost pity, we'd thought. But the key told us another story of liasons behind a secret door. In the end it was justice.

I knocked quickly on the wooden door, still in that dark cherry stain, though now chipping at the edges.

"Who is it?" Asked a sharp soprano voice. "Qui?"

I leaned on the door and whispered to the smooth wood grains. "Your Emilie..."

The door swung open and I stepped back to allow it. The salon that used to greet its family early in the morning was torn apart: the patterned divans were tipped and thrown about, photo frames beneath them and their glass fronts broken all over the floor. Long dead flowers layed beside a large stain on the rug. The candles from their shelves broken or fallen to the floor where they were crushed underfoot.

Clair's tall frame stood in the entrance to my old home. She spoke, "They've taken Aime."

"Taken?" I whispered unable to tear my eyes away from the wreakage.

"She wasn't killed here. I suppose they thought she would be useful." A tapestry on the wall of a godly hansome french man was marred by a long gash. "Has Maria been collected as well? She would be with you, or you with her."

I fell to my knees and reached out for my immortal sister in pain. "Maria!" I cried.

"She's dead," concluded the other. She wrapped her arms around me in a semi-soothing manner when she herself needed consoling. "You poor child without Maria there to be your mother. You were changed so young."

I wasn't young anymore. I was still the sixteen year old who'd celebrated her final birthday the day of her death, but the years had aged me in a way physical appearance could not. Contrary, the fact that Clair still clung to our old foundations was evidence at how little she grew, how young she really was.

"Come," she bade. Clair pulled me up by the shoulders as she stood up. "Wash up, the water pump still works in the garden shed, and I get you some clean clothes. I still have your's and all the others' old dresses." Her blood red eyes bore deep into my own that were parched of all color. "I'll get you something to drink."

"Please," I put an hand on her arm. "Animal, no matter the cost or your fears. For Maria."

She muttered, "For your death."

We parted as I walked to the patio. The mosiac of bricks that pressed down into the grass seemed to be cracking under my bare feet. But Clair was right, the water pump was the only thing that hadn't fallen apart with the garden. I filled up the tub inside the shed and stripped down bare. Completely submerged in the chilly water I proceded to use my hands to scrub every inch of muck out of my hair, between my toes, and under my finger nails.

"Emilie?" Clair asked from outside.

"Leave it hanging on the door."

I finished up quickly and slipped the dress through the small opening the door, which I closed immediately after. On top of the black silk, appropriate for mourning, if mourning was appropriate in this situation, was a fresh towel. I dried and dressed myself.

Clair waited inside, sitting inside a circle of her little trinkets. She looked up as I entered. "There's something to eat and a brush in the kitchen."

As I dragged the ivory handled brush through my hair I wondered. I wondered when the sun would rise outside this country home and how many of my old friends it would shine upon. It would be necessary to take count of how many of us Dolls were left. The only proof I had to back up my reasoning was simply 'there is strength in numbers'. First I would need to find the gifted; not counting Aime, Clair and I, there were two more.

Clair's hands were instantely behind me, pulling my long locks back into a pony with a white ribbon. They rested on my shoulders when they were done with their task.

"I imagine if it weren't for the Cullens we wouldn't be having all this trouble," she spoke her thoughts aloud. "I follow my true nature and I am free from their tyranny."

I pivotted on my heel and stared her in the eyes, we stood so close our noses were touching. With my right hand I reached on the counter behind her and brought forward my feast to my lips: a small squirrel limp in my grasp.

"Red eyes mark you as thiers," I sunk my teeth into the rodent-like creature. I pulled away and cleaned my lips with a quick swipe of my tongue.

"Like this," I quoted quietly and malicously. "I _am _free."

_**Could use the reviews. I'm delivering lots of love with the next piece in this story for all the time I was away. (No one told me I could use wordpad like m-word!) I just finished reading 'Annette Vallon...' Amazing, if you like the french revolution. (I do!) And I'm afraid it's influence is found within. The Chapter is short. My Author's note is getting long. A few last comments: This is my first ABD fic (after breaking dawn- translation for you silly) and I plan on following in through with it. All BBD fics are postponed (yes, even Visable Dawn, my apologies!) I need the answer to one question, **__**during Breaking Dawn how old was Seth?**__** Can't tell you how i'll be using this information quite yet, mwhahaha! Ah, it's good to be back! Say thanks to Shan for getting me motivated again, though she did nothing really. Guess she must be magical. 0o Leah**_


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